Indiana Pulcinella

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“What are you doing here?” Lori leaned on the doorframe marking the entrance and exit to Lane and Nigel’s office. Lori wore a pair of red knee-high boots, a black skirt, a blue satin blouse, and an attitude. She ran the office, keeping detectives in line and taking a few under her wing.

Lane – remarkable because the six-foot-tall detective appeared so unremarkable – looked at Nigel Li, who sat at the next desk. Nigel raised his black eyebrows, locking his hands behind his neck then rubbing the back of his close-shaved head.

I’m on my own, Lane thought.

Lori shook her head, sighing. “Your nephew Matt called. Your presence is required at the hospital.”

Lane stood up, reaching for the inside pocket of his grey sports jacket. He pulled out his phone. Its face told him he’d missed multiple calls. He looked at Lori, holding up the phone. “But it didn’t ring.”

Nigel rolled his office chair next to Lane and took the phone, flicking a switch on the side. “Ringer’s off.” He handed the phone back to his greying partner and looked at Lori. “He just got it yesterday.” Nigel tapped Lane on the arm of his mauve shirt. “You’ve also got a text message.”

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